1.
Peon, having signaled the start of the fireworks and waved to the people of Lyussenford, entered the hall only after ensuring plenty of meat and bread were distributed to the masses.
“Your Highness! Welcome back!”
“Oh, we heard the new Grand Duchess wouldn’t eat the Perenko. So, we had a little talk with her to make sure she did! Hahahaha!”
The moment he heard that name—*Perenko*—Peon snapped his head toward Kaella, who was eating in silence. Her face was deathly pale; she chewed mechanically, as if trapped in a trance. Seeing the young Grand Duchess forced to consume that dry, wretched meat—a dish even the locals shunned—made his blood boil.
“You lords don’t seem to have emptied your own plates. Is it not to your tastes, either? Shall I have them cleared away?”
The Grand Duke, who had been laughing dismissively, let out a voice sharp as a blade as he strode past the massive dining table toward his wife.
“Don’t force yourself to eat. Stop.”
Perenko. That miserable, tough, tasteless meat from the giant deer of Lyussenford. They claimed it was a staple for lean times, but surely they weren’t that desperate now. Suddenly, it struck Peon why he loathed it so.
The Grand Duchess had always hated Perenko. She had never touched a single bite in the past. Yet here she was, swallowing a large, slow mouthful, looking up at him with a drained, hollow expression. Then, she whispered softly.
“I’m fine.”
Fine? What on earth was fine about this? Was it acceptable for a noble-born lady to be coerced by this barbarous, pig-headed crowd into eating something she detested?
“Don’t force yourself. Stop eating, now.”
He spoke again, his voice iron-clad. A surge of disgust rose within him—not just for these nobles, who were willing to stake their lives on forcing an unwanted meal down the Grand Duchess’s throat while ignoring the virtues of honor and loyalty. He was disgusted by the head maid, the butler, and the chef; the natives of this castle who should have served her, yet acted as they pleased. Ultimately, that revulsion turned back upon himself.
He hated himself most of all. Before the regression, he had inwardly felt frustrated with Kaella, thinking her tactless and inviting scorn just because she couldn’t stomach a few bites of deer meat.
She was a noble lady raised on refined, flavorful food. It wasn’t that she was terribly picky—she simply despised Perenko. It was perfectly reasonable. Seeing the head maid’s sneer, the final film covering his eyes stripped away. His dull mind finally awakened, and the reality he faced was far more wretched than he had imagined.
*From the very beginning…*
He had sworn he wouldn’t repeat his mistakes, yet he had proven himself a pathetic, foolish man who failed once again. He should have at least taken her to see the fireworks. The first thing he would do—once this was over—was replace that head maid.
“Don’t eat it. You are truly alright to stop.”
Peon sat beside her, speaking quietly while contemplating how to dismantle these insufferable locals. Peon was an outsider himself; he couldn’t simply ignore those who had lived here for generations. As Grand Duke, he had to govern them, and he had made concessions because they felt belittled in Krain. But that no longer mattered.
If she didn’t want it, then he didn’t want it either. If the Grand Duchess was a pushover, then the Grand Duke would be one, too. The first ones on his list for removal were those who changed their attitudes based on who they were dealing with.
“Oh my. Grand Duchess. What happened to your eyes?”
Just then, a shrill, mocking voice cackled.
“It looks like you were stung by a bee. Are there even bees out in this weather? Look at those eyes. Oh my. What a pity.”
Following the lead of her loud-mouthed husband, a noblewoman who had been itching to put the wealthy Grand Duchess from sophisticated Krain in her place pointed at Kaella’s face and laughed.
Her eyes were strange? Peon turned to examine her. She was sitting still. No, not still. Her entire body was tensed with a desperate, hidden effort.
“Actually, yes. Your face is swollen, Grand Duchess.”
Peon reached out amidst the sneers. His heart plummeted, and his blood went cold.
“……Ugh…….”
A ragged breath erupted from her, followed by a groan she could no longer suppress.
“Kaella!”
She, whose eyes had swollen shut in an instant, slumped backward.
“My Lady!”
Marie screamed, and several people jumped to their feet. Her hands, which had been gripping the chair and table so tightly to avoid scratching her reddened skin and to endure the tightening of her throat, fell limp.
A high-pitched ringing pierced Peon’s ears. He grabbed her as she swayed and collapsed, forcibly pulling together his reason, which was on the verge of panic. No. He could not lose his mind here.
“Call the doctor!”
Peon shouted, grabbing Kaella, who still held onto a shred of consciousness, and forced her to vomit.
“Kaella, stay with me. Throw it up, hurry.”
On the battlefields where he faced the Evil Dragon Gwasalante, Peon hadn’t just commanded while the wounded poured in by the dozens. Sir Wilberg and Sir Renard rushed over, and the maids shielded Kaella from view.
“You have to vomit, Kaella.”
Dying is painful. You have to suffer enough, hurt enough, to die. Kaella knew this better than anyone, having lived a past life spent drained of all her strength. She had suffered enough by forcing herself to eat the Perenko; she didn’t want to live by forcing herself to throw it back up. In this place, where good people were crushed by the loud-mouthed and no amount of effort changed anything, she should have died sooner.
But a strong hand firmly pressed down on her swollen tongue and prodded her throat. Kaella heaved up everything she had eaten. Tears welled up in her eyes, accompanied by spasms that wrung her abdomen.
“Well done. Don’t lose consciousness. Look at me.”
Her blurry vision was a disaster. Even though she tried to look, she couldn’t see. Kaella surrendered her body to the darkness that approached with a welcoming embrace.
“Open your eyes, Kaella!”
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
The Grand Duchess, who had just arrived as a bride, had collapsed with a swollen face and lost consciousness. This happened at the welcome banquet on her first day in Lyussenford.
“Oh my, I suppose she is just a bit delicate.”
After the Grand Duchess, who had been forced to vomit, was carried out, someone muttered without a hint of awareness. It was a serious matter, yet they treated it as if it were nothing.
“Why do you say that?”
The noble who had muttered this asked in return, seeing the expression of another noble glaring at him. The man glaring was someone who was usually tight-lipped and hadn’t said a word all night.
“Can you not grasp the situation? If the Grand Duchess who arrived today collapses, what do you think they will say in Krain?”
“What do you mean, ‘what would they say’….”
What could they possibly say? Even if those oily, fat Krain nobles—who didn’t even know how to fight—said something snidely, what would it matter? Among those blinking in confusion, those with sharp wits and political sense, who had been silent because they were in the minority, had already turned pale and were squeezing their eyes shut.
“Everyone, be silent! Take your seats!”
Just then, the Grand Duke’s knights blocked the banquet hall exits and shouted.
“Please remain in your seats until the situation is stabilized. Do not touch the tables.”
“Why not the tables?”
The knight replied coldly.
“The Grand Duke has ordered an investigation, as the Grand Duchess’s well-being has been compromised by the food.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, several knights dragged the head maid and the butler away. From the back kitchen, the chef was dragged out as well.
The Grand Duke grabbed the collars of the complacent nobles and turned everything upside down. He carried the collapsed Kaella and laid her in his bedroom.
“You say it was because of the Tur Berry? There is no toxicity in Tur Berry.”
The doctor who had been called in and spouted such idiocy was immediately kicked out. The next doctor was summoned.
“You have eaten food that did not agree with your body. To the Grand Duchess, it was no different from poison.”
The doctor who gave the accurate diagnosis immediately upon seeing her was put in charge of treating the Grand Duchess. However, she shook her head, saying the Grand Duchess was in grave danger.
“Perenko is a dish served with a sauce made from Tur Berry. Even a small amount is dangerous enough, but she consumed far too much. Was it that the Grand Duchess didn’t know, since she was encountering Tur Berry for the first time?”
As if that could be the case. Peon, having understood the situation—that Kaella had clearly said several times that it made her itch and made it hard to breathe, that it ‘hurt’—shook his head heavily. Kaella had known. She had known, and yet she had eaten it.
“Then, you mean she ate it of her own volition?”
The doctor looked at Peon in surprise. Peon, his face ashen, had no words.
Why had Kaella done it? Was it because she couldn’t overcome the pressure from the nobles and had eaten a few bites, leading to this? No, her plate had been completely clean. She had chewed it well and swallowed it all.
Then, was it because she was so pessimistic about marrying him, a bastard, that she wanted to die?
The doctor looked around fearfully, and after confirming once more that no one was listening, she spoke cautiously.
“I have done all that I can, but I cannot guarantee anything. She cannot even breathe properly right now….”
Though the nobles didn’t even acknowledge her, calling her a low-born ‘female’ apothecary, the Grand Duke had ordered that anyone with great skill be brought, and the stable hand had recommended her. She said she had been on her way home after caring for a mother who had just given birth to a child late at night when she met the Grand Duke’s knights. She had never dealt with high-ranking individuals before, so she trembled before the Grand Duke’s piercing gaze.
“Say what needs to be said, without holding anything back.”
“I apologize, Your Highness. What matters most right now is whether or not the Grand Duchess has the will to live.”
At those words, delivered in a single breath, the man who had been sitting like a stone by the bedside of his newlywed wife froze. Nothing else had changed, but the doctor noticed that the Grand Duke had momentarily forgotten to breathe. And more than anything, the atmosphere centering around him, which had already been grim, was now on the verge of an explosion.
“Usually, when one discusses that ‘will,’ it implies there is nothing left to be done.”
The doctor bowed her head.
“Yes, Your Highness. She consumed an amount that would be difficult for even a sturdy, grown man to endure.”
Let alone the patient lying here in such a wretched state—not a sturdy man, but a young noblewoman who was prone to illness and very sensitive to the cold. He had performed the same procedures on Kaella that he would have on a wounded soldier on the battlefield. Peon rubbed herbs all over her swollen, mottled face, praying for the swelling to go down, while the doctor spoke of the worst-case scenario.
“I have done my best.”
Peon squeezed his eyes shut. Kaella, who had been forced to have her mouth held open and her tongue pressed down to secure her airway, was wheezing, drifting between life and death.
“I don’t think she can make it through the night.”
The doctor risked her life to tell the truth. And that truth shattered the Grand Duke once more. An indelible, pitch-black sin was washing up at his feet.
“……Is there no way? Is there no way to save her at all?”
They said the Grand Duke from Krain was fair and unwavering, unlike the crafty and cowardly Krain people. Even the children playing in the alleys of Lyussenford knew that story. The doctor witnessed the man who was said to be unwavering, shattering in front of her.
“You can use any means necessary. Is there truly no way to save her?”
He couldn’t lose her so meaninglessly. His desperate voice trembled. The doctor lowered her head.
“……One can only rely on legend, Your Highness. Perhaps the panacea said to be in His Majesty the Emperor’s treasure vault….”
Everyone in Lyussenford knew that was practically a myth. So, seeing the look in his eyes—demanding something more realistic as his reason began to slip away—she continued.
“There is a medicine called Retilin that can instantly alleviate such symptoms, but that… according to my mentor, it lies within the domain of the Evil Dragon. I am sorry, Your Highness.”
If he went across the border into the territory of the Evil Dragon Gwasalante to find the medicine, it would mean war. Everyone living in Lyussenford knew that it would be too great a loss for the Grand Duke who protected the territory.
One must not provoke the Evil Dragon. If the hellfire breathed by the Evil Dragon turned the crops they had painstakingly grown into ash, and if the fearful forests and those subterranean existences—the subordinates of the Evil Dragon—reappeared beyond the city walls, it would be the end.
How painful had last autumn been? Strangely, there had been no further friction as winter turned to spring, but one never knew when something might happen again. The people of Lyussenford were always on high alert. In such a situation, it made no sense for anyone to go to the territory of the Evil Dragon.
“A medicine, not an herb?”
“Yes. I have heard it is a medicine created by the spirits that the Evil Dragon commands. It is a very old story.”
In Lyussenford, where people were terrified of the Evil Dragon Gwasalante, it was best to stay as far away as possible. That was why the doctor drew a line, calling it an old story.
“……Keep that to yourself. Do not tell anyone.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Take care of my wife. If she is still breathing by sunrise, I will grant you a grand reward.”
Peon, having said this firmly, finally rose and left the bedroom.
“Wilberg, Renard. Guard this bedroom. Let no one in except the doctor and the Grand Duchess’s maids. Do not follow me; guard the Grand Duchess. Trust no one.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The few knights the Grand Duke trusted bowed their heads. Wearing a black cloak with his hood pulled deep, the Grand Duke quietly mounted a black horse and rode out of the castle. He exited the castle gates rapidly, and the moment he was out, he increased his speed even further.
While the nobles were confined to the banquet hall, the powerful warhorse, having left Lyussenford, ran and ran until foam gathered at its mouth. The horse ventured deeper into the rugged mountains. The snow had not yet melted, and the horse traveled paths where a chilling wind blew. It was a very wide road, but no human dared to wander near this area.
It felt as if ominous beings were whispering among the black branches. The sensitive horse sensed the fearful gazes watching them and occasionally tried to stray from the path. If not for its master’s steadying hand, it would have run away long ago.
The moment they had run for a long time and entered deep, ever deeper, the horse finally reared up in terror. In the darkness, shadows gathered to form a shape.
“Calm down.”
The Grand Duke, tightening the reins, soothed the horse and stared directly at the form.
“I need Retilin.”
The man who dared to invade the dragon’s domain spoke with chilling arrogance.